At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. ” There was a moment’s silence. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. You shall tell me if I am wrong. He raised her to a sitting position. "Farewell!" cried Jack, embracing them.
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